


Get Me Out Of My Mind

by whovianmuse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e16 Illuminated, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovianmuse/pseuds/whovianmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Boys? Yeah…and maybe a certain sourwolf.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Me Out Of My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> The title was inspired by the song _Ready To Go (Get Me Out Of My Mind)_ by Panic! At The Disco.
> 
>  
> 
> _You’ve got these little things that you’ve been running from / You either love it or I guess you don’t / You’re such a pretty thing to be running from anyone / A vision with nowhere to go / So tell me right now / You think you’re ready for it / I want to know why you’ve got me going / So let’s go / We’ll take it out of here / I think I’m ready to leave / I’m ready to live, I’m _— **Ready To Go (Get Me Out Of My Mind) • Panic! At The Disco**__

            “Do _you?_ ” Caitlin asks him, her smile coy and curious through a smudged trail of bright, neon orange lipstick, stretching from her lips to the edge of her chin. Her query barely registers above the screeches of the DJ’s dub-step, woven in between a hundred other voices and sounds, and all Stiles can hear is the erratic thrum of his heart beating along with the thundering bass lines as he catches sight of a darkened figure, lurking in the crowd.

            “ _Hello?_ Earth to Stiles,” she says, though she hardly sounds annoyed, just playful.

            Stiles’ eyes follow the silhouette as it slinks from shadow to shadow, twisting in and out of the sea of half-naked, grinding, sweating bodies, illuminated only by the intricate designs painted across the surface of their skin. He rips his eyes away from the dance floor just long enough to glance at her, her expression soft, and sweet, and far more patient than he really deserves.

            “I’m sorry, what was the question?” he asks, though he’s hardly paying attention.

            “I _said_ , do you like boys, too?”

            And that’s when Stiles sees him, slipping out into the light. Derek, back home from wherever the _hell_ he’d been over the past couple of weeks, all darkly menacing eyebrows and stupid, gorgeous curves, the taut muscles of his back pressed into a tight line against the wall of the loft, arms crossed over his chest, bright blue wolfed-out eyes boring straight into Stiles’ from across the crowded room. _Blue? Blue is just…pretty,_ a nettling voice at the back of his mind quips, and despite the fact that he kind of wants to, because a look like that is far too intense for him to handle right now, Stiles _knows_ that it would feel like absolute torture if he were to break that stare.

            The knot in Stiles’ throat tightens as he takes in the sight of him, unkempt stubble strewn across his clenched jaw, the flashing, luminescent lights dancing against the glow of his eyes as Derek fixes Stiles with a look he can’t quite decipher, something that capers on the edge of melancholia, maybe even envy. And fuck if that look doesn’t go straight to Stiles’ heart, the sudden, all-encompassing realization of _just how much_ Stiles had missed him hitting him square in the chest. His whole body starts to tremble, a nerve-bending shiver winding its way down his spine as a light sheen of sweat collects in the soft creases of his hands.

_Boys? Yeah…and maybe a certain sourwolf._

            Caitlin chuckles, soft and low, the vibration of her voice tickling the side of Stiles’ ear as she leans over his shoulder to peer at whoever had stolen his attention away from her.

            “I’m gonna take that as a _yes_ ,” she says, her lips curving up into a teasing smile. “And I’m willing to bet that the hot, brooding guy in the corner that, in all honestly, looks like a cross between a Disney prince and a Disney _villain_ , has got something to do with it.”

            Stiles whips around to face her, swallowing thickly and eyeing up her inquisitive, all-knowing expression. He wonders, momentarily, if he could actually get away with bullshitting a half-assed lie…whether it’d be for Caitlin’s benefit, or for his own, Stiles isn’t entirely certain. But the way she’s smiling at him, all lighthearted and self-assured in her swiftly calculated deductions, and seemingly _not at all_ offended at his accidental rejection, Stiles can’t help but sigh loudly and bury his face in the palms of his hands, nodding vehemently.

            “God, yes. So much _yes_ ,” he moans theatrically, and then immediately freezes, knowing full well that Derek can hear every word he’s saying…that is, if he cares enough to listen in. And, sure enough, when Stiles lifts his head to peer through the lines of his fingers, it’s to find Derek still staring in his direction, eyebrows arched and eyes wide in what Stiles desperately hopes is anything but outright disgust. Frozen to the spot, Stiles simply sits there, mimicking Derek’s expression in a perfect replication as he struggles, and eventually succeeds, to tear his eyes away from Derek’s.

            “Well, then,” Caitlin chimes in, giving Stiles’ shoulder an affectionate shove. “What are you waiting for? _Go get him_.”

            “It’s not…it’s not that simple, I…we have this complicated history between us…it wouldn’t… _he_ wouldn’t…I mean, have you _seen_ the guy? He’s _way_ out of my league,” Stiles mumbles awkwardly, pointedly looking anywhere but at Derek so that he’s not forced to humiliate himself by trying to gauge Derek’s reaction.

            “Are you _kidding_ me?” Caitlin scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Stiles, seriously…you’re fucking _gorgeous_ , okay? And trust me, I’m incredibly picky, so don’t take that lightly.”

            Stiles attempts to argue, arms on the verge of a flailing tantrum, but Caitlin quickly cuts him off.

            “Look, the guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he first saw you…plus, he keeps giving me death glares,” she laughs, playfully nudging Stiles in the ribs until he’s all but fallen out of his seat. “I’m pretty damn sure that that means something.”

            Slowly, tentatively, Stiles spares another glance his way, and Derek quickly averts his eyes to the floor, lips pursed in a tight line. With a sudden jolt to the heart, Stiles realizes just how much he wants to make that tense line disappear, to swallow it up in a collection of kisses until all that remains are the soft, smooth curves of his rarest smile. He turns back toward Caitlin, mouths a short and simple _thank you_ , and starts to move across the dance floor, a compulsive, indescribable _pull_ in his chest tugging him forward.

            In no time at all, Stiles has battled his way through the crowd and come to an abrupt halt in front of Derek’s corner of solitude. The two of them stand there in tension-wrought silence for the barest hint of seconds, lips parted and eyes wide in an unspoken accord, cheekbones flooded with ardent heat, before Stiles is stepping forward and closing the space between them, gripping Derek by the lapels of his leather jacket and thrusting him up against the wall of the loft. There’s a split-second of shock and hesitation before Derek’s lips are crashing against Stiles’ with a feral fervor, arms lacing around Stiles’ waist and gripping him tight, like he’s afraid to let him go. Stiles responds in kind, pressing flush against Derek’s every curve, fingers weaving in between onyx strands of hair and tugging lightly, licking into Derek’s mouth in desperation as he moans out breathless confessions he would’ve ruefully taken with him to the grave.

            They break apart only to catch their breath; ridiculous, euphoric smiles plastered across their faces, skin aglow and flushed the faintest hint of red, chests heaving out labored breaths. Moments swallow them up as they stand there, lost in the sudden sequence of tactless intentions, unsure of what they’re supposed to do next, until Derek rolls his eyes, huffs out a nervous laugh, and leans in close, an unexpectedly _glorious_ combination of soft lips and rough stubble brushing against Stiles’ ear as Derek whispers a tentative request. Stiles pulls back with wide eyes, lips curving into a brilliant smile as he laces his fingers with Derek’s, tugging him through the crowd and leading him up the winding, spiral staircase to Derek’s bedroom, where he’s, admittedly, _not entirely certain_ that the cacophony of drunken dancers and blaring, reverberating music will be enough to drown them out.


End file.
